


Fine

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Sick Character, Sick Lance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Keith tells his roommate Lance to clean his side of the room or there will be hell to pay. He comes back to the dorm to find Lance collapsed in a puddle of floor cleaner, sick with the same flu-bug that he'd nursed Keith back to health from last week. Keith does what he can to help with gratuitous movie references and some not-super-gentle caretaking.





	Fine

Sorry it took so long!

Author Note: I use the word “barista-ing” in this fic. I was a barista for a lil over two years and I never had a verb for my job besides “working” or “wanting to hang myself in the back room at Starbucks” lol

“Lance,” Keith called, trying to wake his roommate from his nap. The other boy didn’t stir. “ _LANCE.”_ Keith looked around for the nearest object to toss and decided on a paperback copy of the book he was reading for a 17th Century Literature class up onto the top of Lance’s lofted bed. It was heavy enough to do the trick, resulting in a drowsy, cranky Lance sitting up in bed, his hair messy and eyes unfocused. 

“I was sleeping,” Lance grumbled. 

“I know,” Keith bit cheekily. He still hadn’t forgiven Lance for turning off his alarm clock three days ago. So what if Keith had had the flu? He’d planned on going to class anyway, and Lance had fought him on it, but he wouldn’t budge on the issue. Lance had turned off his alarm clock while he slept, and he’d missed a lecture because of it. Even though Lance had gone in his place and even taken notes, Keith was still pissed. Lance’s handwriting was illegible so the notes were basically useless. “I wanted you to know that I’m bringing Shiro over to study right after I come back from class,” he informed. 

Ugh. If Shiro was coming over, he’d have to get up and make himself look presentable. All he really wanted to do was sleep–he’d woken up with a sore throat, but a busy day of classes and a barista-ing shift at the university coffee shop had added a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion to the mix. 

“Sounds good,” he said without making an effort to move.

“Your side of the dorm looks like crap,” Keith added, “and it’s your turn to clean the bathroom.”

“Sounds good,” Lance repeated without really listening.

“I mean that I want you to clean them while I’m in class,” Keith clarified. 

“Why? Your side looks fine, and the bathroom isn’t that messy.”

“Your face masks and lotions and shampoos and shit are all over the counter,” Keith complained.

Lance sighed. “Fine.”

“Thanks,” Keith grumbled. “I’ll see you in an hour.” Keith left the room with his books in hand and Lance fell asleep again without meaning to.

When Lance opened his eyes again, he panicked. He hadn’t cleaned the room yet, and Keith would be back here with Shiro in–he glanced at his phone and winced at the light coming from the screen–ten minutes. Shit. When he went to move, Lance realized that his muscles were stiff and sore–much sorer than they were just a few hours ago when he’d gone to work. And as soon as he was standing, he realized that he was dizzy–really dizzy, and fucking freezing without the blankets around him to keep him warm. Did Keith turn on the AC before he left?

Well, in any case, Shiro liked the cold, so Lance would tough it out. He grabbed his warmest hoodie from his top drawer and worked it over his head. Looking around the room, he figured that his side of the room could wait, and he’d start in the bathroom. It was messier in there than his dorm, anyway. 

Why was it so hot all of a sudden? He was still shivering, but he could feel the heat rising from the neck of his hoodie and swelling just beneath his chin, making him sweat. The effort it took to clear his soaps from the counter was alarming, and while a logical part of him knew that if he just texted Keith that he was feeling too sick to finish cleaning, that he and Shiro could just go study in the library, but a less sensical but louder part of his brain was screaming that Keith would be very, very angry at Lance if he didn’t clean the dorm. Keith was already mad at him, and he didn’t want to make that worse. 

Lance took out a bucket and poured in some soap, filling it with water in the shower. He had to take a knee to stop the room from spinning while he waited for the shitty water pressure to fill the mop bucket. When the water was at a sufficient level, Lance shut off the water and picked up the bucket, standing up–too fast, apparently. The world was tilting out of control,and it was so hot, and there were black spots in his vision that encroached more and more of his vision until he finally lost consciousness. 

* * *

“Is Lance in the dorms, or is he still working?” Shiro asked as he and Keith approached the door.

“He’s here, unfortunately,” Keith muttered. 

“Fighting again?”

“A bit,” Keith shrugged. “He’s supposed to be cleaning his side of the room, but I bet he just went back to sleep after I left.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Shiro replied, leaning against the wall while Keith fumbled through his bag for his keys. “I got coffee from him before class; he looked pretty rough.”

Keith’s hand froze for an immeasurable second. “Rough?” he asked casually, keeping any hint of concern from his voice. Lance had pretty much collapsed in his bed when he’d gotten home, which was only somewhat unusual. He was usually working pretty hard. Even though he didn’t get along with him all the time, Keith respected the hell out of the kid. It was difficult enough just to manage his classes, but Lance managed to take 18 credits, be an active member of student government, and work part time. He said that it was all the free coffee that gave him the energy to balance it all, but Keith wasn’t stupid, and he could see the toll it took on him sometimes. 

“Yeah, just, I don’t know, tired. Pale. Sort of out of it. He said he was fine, but you know how he is. Fine can mean fine, or fine can mean ‘I threw up in the middle of an SGA meeting and the treasurer had to walk me to health services.’” Keith winced as he remembered that afternoon. _Fine_. He finally found his key and unlocked the door with it. 

The first thing Keith noticed was a pool of soapy water leaking from underneath the bathroom door.

“Lance,” Keith called, “I’m back. Shiro’s here, too.”

They didn’t get a reply for a moment. Keith walked closer to the door and hovered just outside it. 

“Did you knock over the mop bucket again?” he asked. Silence again. “Lance?” Lance groaned. “Oh, shit,” Keith cursed, throwing the door open. Shiro followed him into the bathroom. 

Lance was lying on the ground, semi-conscious, next to an overturned bucket of mop water. His whole left side was soaked, and there was floor soap in his hair. “Lance, can you hear me?”

“Nghh,” Lance moaned. Keith crouched beside him and cupped his face in his hands, frowning at the heat.

“I think you’ve got the flu bug I had last week,” Keith admitted. “Shiro, there’s a digital thermometer in the medicine cabinet, can you–thanks.” Keith took the thermometer from Shiro’s hand and handed it to Lance, who put it under his tongue and waited. When it beeped, Keith removed it from his mouth and sighed at the reading. 

“103.4,” he confirmed, “You’ve definitely got the flu. Come on, let’s get the soap out of your hair and get you to bed.”

“It’s fine,” Lance protested, “I just want to sleep.”

“It’s bathroom cleaner, Lance. It’s got ammonia in it. It’ll get on your pillow and burn your face and you’ll wake up like Harvey Dent.”

Lance sighed and sat up, and as soon as he was upright, his eyes lost focus for a moment. “I’m not too sure I could stand up for a whole shower,” he admitted. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m not showering with you, Keith,” Lance said disgustedly, trying to claw away from Keith. 

“That’s not what I mean, dummy,” Keith rolled his eyes. “Just–here.” He maneuvered Lance so that he was sitting against the door of the shower and stepped back into the bedroom. 

“Shiro, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take a rain check on our study session,” Keith apologized. Shiro nodded.

“I understand. If he gets any worse, call me, okay? I’m the RA on call tonight, anyway.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith smiled, ushering him out of their dorm and entering the bathroom with a cup in his hands. He filled it with lukewarm water from the tap. 

“Tip your head back,” Keith instructed, cupping his hands over Lance’s forehead so he could pour the cool water over his head without getting it in his eyes. The sensation was pleasant but the interaction was uncomfortable, so Lance avoided Keith’s eyes. 

“You didn’t have to cancel on Shiro,” he said. “I’d have been fine on my own.”

“’Fine,’” Keith scoffed. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Lance scoffed. “Princess Bride? Really?”

“They were showing it on the quad,” Keith shrugged. After a few more times passing water through Lance’s hair, Keith grabbed a hand towel and gently dried his head. “Ready for bed?” Keith asked. 

Lance swayed heavily when he stood, and Keith caught him by the elbow. When Lance eyed the ladder to his bed, seemingly trying to determine whether he thought he could climb it without passing out again, Keith steered him instead to his own bed.

“Keith, you don’t have to–”

“I know I wouldn’t have wanted to climb a ladder when I had this,” Keith interrupted. He smirked teasingly. “Besides, I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of you falling off your loft because you needed to go to the bathroom. We’ll just trade until you’re feeling a bit more steady.”

Lance nodded gratefully and fell asleep under Keith’s covers.

Lance slept until he was woken up in the middle of the night to a loud thump and a pained groan.

“Forgot you were on the loft?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“…Goodnight, Keith.”

“Night, Lance.”


End file.
